Cra. Sir, I cannot talk with that neat travelling tongue.
Con. As I live, he has the worst belief in men abroad.
Enter the 2. Boy.
I am glad I am come home.
2. Boy. Here are the Gentlemen.
Cra. O let 'em enter: now you that trust in travel,
And make sharp Beards, and little Breeches Deities,
You that inhaunce the daily price of Tooth-picks,
And hold there is no homebred happiness,
Behold a model of your minds and actions.
Euph. Though this be envious, yet done i'th' way of mirth,
I am content to thank ye for't.
Con. 'Tis well yet.
Cra. Let the Maske enter.
Enter Onos, his Unkle and Tutor.